


Truth has no answer

by ayumie



Series: The Grimm Road [1]
Category: Grimm
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayumie/pseuds/ayumie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU based on the premise that Nick instead of Juliette was scratched by Adalind's cat - with all the resulting consequences. Obviously I screwed a bit with the timeline and tossed a few canon facts around to mix things up, but by and large I hope I did well enough following until about episode 2x16.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth has no answer

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/profile)[**hisoka44**](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lea724.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lea724.livejournal.com/)**lea724** for being wonderful beta-readers.

Title: Truth has no answer  
Fandom: Grimm  
Author: [](http://ayumie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ayumie.livejournal.com/)**ayumie**  
Rating: MA  
Pairing: Renard/Nick  
Summary: AU based on the premise that Nick instead of Juliette was scratched by Adalind's cat - with all the resulting consequences. Obviously I screwed a bit with the timeline and tossed a few canon facts around to mix things up, but by and large I hope I did well enough following until about episode 2x16.  
Warnings: Spoilers for season 2. Dub-con - characters under the influence of a love spell.  
Notes: Thanks to [](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/profile)[**hisoka44**](http://hisoka44.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lea724.livejournal.com/profile)[**lea724**](http://lea724.livejournal.com/) for being wonderful beta-readers.

**Truth has no answer**

  


Nick frowned as he sat down at his desk and his foot hit something that … mewed? Leaning down, he discovered a cat in one of those small carrying cases he always saw at Juliette's office. What on earth was it doing there? Leaning down, Nick lifted the thing onto his desk. Almost immediately, the door swung open. Nick barely managed to slam it shut again before the cat escaped. He looked down at his hand. It was just a small scratch, but it burned like hell.

  


„And just for that, I'm having you shipped to an animal shelter instead of asking Juliette to find a place for you.“

  


„Nick? Is something the matter? What is that animal doing here?“

  


Swiveling around, Nick found the captain standing in the door of his office, looking at the cat as though it might be poisonous.

  


„It's nothing. Probably just a practical joke by one of the guys. I'll call the animal shelter right away.“

  


„You do that.“

  


Nick could feel the captain's eyes on him, though, strangely intense as he studied the cat and the bleeding hand in turn. The rest of the day was unremarkable. Nick used the time to catch up on his paperwork. When he handed the neat stack of files to the captain, Renard once more looked him over. Nick had to fight the urge to draw back his hand, which he suddenly realized was looking much worse. His head was swimming as well and clearly his vision was going, because for a moment it looked like Renard's eyes were glowing.

  


„Nick? Are you-“

  


Then everything went black.

  


*

  


Renard barely managed to keep Nick from banging his head against the desk. He cursed under his breath, low and vicious. It had been that damned cat. Unfortunately there were still a lot of officers around, so he couldn't take Nick to Catherine Schade as he probably ought to. It'd have to be the hospital instead. It took every ounce of self-control Sean Renard possessed to stand by as an ambulance took his Grimm away and by the time he reached the Schade residence he was in a towering rage.

  


“Where is she? Where is Adalind?”

  


To her credit, Catherine only took a small step back. She knew Renard long enough to realize that any further show of fear would be seen as an admission of guilt. She could also be very persuasive. Once he was satisfied that Catherine had indeed severed all contact with Adalind and knew nothing of her daughter’s plans, Renard issued his orders.

  


“I will have the cat delivered to you. Do whatever you need to do. I expect quick results. I'm holding you personally responsible for Nick's well-being.”

  


Now Catherine paled visibly.

  


“You can't! You can't blame me for my daughter's actions!”

  


Renard's eyes narrowed.

  


“I can. And I will. Don't disappoint me.”

  


Unfortunately the cure Catherine suggested proved as much a nightmare as the initial curse had been. She had stopped the memory loss easily enough, but as for the rest... Renard's mind was still reeling as he picked up the potion he was supposed to ingest. A Hexenbiest Zaubertrank wasn't to be taken lightly, even one brewed by a woman he had no reason to doubt. In fact the mere prospect had Renard's stomach in knots and he had to force himself to take deep, calming breaths. It'd have to be him, though – he couldn't trust anyone else with this. Not knowing what his initial reaction would be, Renard finally decided to take the concoction back to his home. Somehow he had a feeling that purity might not particularly agree with him.

  


It burned. Renard swallowed a scream as he felt his knees buckle. His clothes seemed to burn his skin and he hastily tore at his shirt. The whole thing probably lasted only for a few minutes, but it was utterly agonizing. Renard was shaky as he picked himself up. This had better work. To be on the safe side, he took a cab to the to the hospital, trying not to think about what was to follow. He kept his mind carefully blank until he was standing by Nick's bedside with the curtains drawn shut around them. The man guarding the door had been sent away. Nick was pale, still, except for the way his eyes twitched behind the closed lids. Renard wondered what he was seeing. Did he know that he had been poisoned? That he wasn't alone?

  


A kiss. It wasn't as though he had never idly wondered about Nick Burkhardt. By and large Renard preferred women, but a Grimm … all that power waiting to be claimed, harnessed. The package wasn't unattractive either, which – didn't matter at all. This was a Grimm, a weapon he meant to wield.

Nick's lips were surprisingly soft, yielding easily and Renard's nature demanded that he press his advantage. Just a hint of tongue and something tugged low in his stomach, sharp and demanding and not pure at all. Tearing himself away, Renard took a few steps back. This hadn't been supposed to happen. He turned and fled just as Nick started to stir.

  


Over the next few weeks things returned to some semblance of normalcy. At times Nick seemed confused, but thankfully the memory loss he had suffered mostly concerned his relationship with Juliette rather than his existence as a Grimm. Renard was prepared to be grateful for small favors, particularly since he couldn't be sure of his own reactions any longer. More and more he found himself thinking about Nick in decidedly intimate ways, dirty little fantasies that wormed their way into his mind whenever he allowed his thoughts to wander. He'd watch Nick through the windows of his office and imagine cornering him in the supplies closet, face against the wall. It'd be easy to yank down the collar of his leather jacket and Nick would moan when he fitted his mouth over his nape, claiming, marking. He'd grind against those tight jeans that had been driving him crazy all week, let the Grimm know what was in store for him. Change of scene and they'd be in the bathroom with Nick on his knees in front of him. He'd have his hand in the Grimm's hair to guide him forward until those pretty lips were stretched around his cock. Nick would be looking up at him from heavy-lidded eyes as he figured out how to work his tongue and throat. Sweetest of all, however, was the image of Nick spread out and naked, pleading with him to move. He'd be buried deep in that pliant body, motionless, waiting patiently for the younger man to go absolutely crazy beneath him. It'd cost him, but he'd draw out ever so slowly, only to slam back in, fill Nick hard and fast, make him scream. He'd make Nick beg for every thrust until finally, blessedly, he'd give him what they both wanted...

  


Renard blinked as he realized that he had been staring at his empty screen for a solid 30 minutes without writing a thing. Clearly this couldn't be allowed to continue. He had followed Nick home twice already and only the secure knowledge that the Grimm would certainly detect his presence if he entered the house had kept him sitting in his car. This wasn't normal behavior, not even in the Wesen-world. The way Nick was constantly fidgeting whenever they were faced with each other didn't help. In his desperation, Renard finally turned to the spice shop. Unfortunately the Blutbad Nick set such stores on proved singularly unhelpful. His dire predictions echoed Renard's own fears. So far he had managed to stay more or less in control, but that couldn't last.

  


When it eventually grew obvious that Nick was suffering from the same effects, it got even more difficult to hold back. Both men were strong-willed, used to curbing their instinctive reactions. Perhaps if they hadn't ignored the mounting tension that long, the inevitable release would have been less explosive. As it was, a late night at work tipped the balance.

  


Renard hadn't realized just how late it was, but when he looked up, their floor of the precinct was all but deserted – except for a single light at the desk. Nick. He briefly considered moving back to his desk, but he had already grabbed his coat and the blinds weren't turned. Later on, neither of them could quite recall the sequence of events. Perhaps one of them had said something, or maybe a look, a movement had been enough, but suddenly they were kissing and it was obvious that things wouldn't end there. Common sense demanded that they take separate cars. Thankfully Renard was still sufficiently in control of his faculties to insist – otherwise they'd have probably ended up wrapped around a telephone pole or giving some cabbie the show of a lifetime.

  


As soon as they reached the elevator in Renard's building, though, all bets were off. The second the doors closed, Nick was on him. Renard gasped as his mouth was claimed in a heated kiss, clever fingers already unbuttoning his shirt. Nick was by no means a small man and he had the strength of a Grimm – not at all what Renard's previous experiences with humans had led him to expect. He growled and pushed back, fitting their bodies together. Renard rode out Nick's reflexive countermovement, only drawing away a little as the other wrenched his mouth away.

  


“I- This is... What is this?”

  


Since Nick's hands were still on his collar, this was clearly not an attempt to stop. Renard briefly bit at his neck. He had the presence of mind to keep the Zauberbiest from rising, but the power of a royal wasn't so easily contained.

  


“What do you mean?”

  


“The air. It feels heavy. Like water. Like electricity. What _are_ you?!”

  


At that moment the door of the elevator opened, sparing Renard the need to answer. Getting naked and into bed was so much more important. The second part was optional. Kicking the door to his apartment shut, Renard quickly trapped Nick against the wall. The latter's shirt was gaping open, revealing flushed skin and a scar across the collarbone. Renard traced the curved ridge, wondering whether this was really just lust, just the effect of a spell. His anger flared at the sight of that old injury and, impulsively, he leaned down to trace it with his lips. The first taste of Nick's skin proved addictive and, mouth sliding lower, Renard slowly sank to his knees. Hand hovering over the younger man's fly, he briefly looked up.

  


“Yes?”

  


For a moment the Grimm looked almost torn and Renard felt an unexpected flash of pity. He had no idea whether Nick had done anything like this with a man before or whether he was even aware of what was happening to him. The spell wouldn't let either of them back out, though.

  


“Oh God!”

  


It would have to do. The angle was a bit awkward and Renard was badly out of practice, but he managed to fit his mouth over Nick's cock with a minimum of fuss. It didn't last long. Renard was still struggling to sort out the multitude of sensory impressions, to savor taste and feel and scent when Nick's knees buckled. He barely had time to brace himself and keep them both from falling. Nick seemed mortified.

  


“I- captain...”

  


“Sean.”

  


Nick drew a deep breath, visibly drawing himself together. He looked like someone about to jump off a cliff.

  


“You're overdressed, Sean.”

  


This time they made it out of their clothes and into the bedroom, where, to his surprise, Renard found himself pushed back onto the bed and studied intently. The urge to go into Woge was almost impossible to resist. What did Nick see when he looked like that?

  


“Nick, I need-”

  


Renard's words trailed off in a groan as Nick moved to straddle him. He had been waiting so long, he didn't even know what he wanted most. At this point just having Nick against him might be enough. The Grimm's grin could only be described as wicked.

  


“Yes.”

  


The breath hissed out of Renard as he reared up, finally giving in to his aggressive instincts. Nick's eyes widened, the strength and speed of the movement clearly taking him by surprise. He gasped as Renard ground against his hip. They moved together for long, breathless moments, bodies fitting against each other as though they had always been meant to. Renard turned his face into the pillow as his control shattered at last. Afterwards, he kept very still. The attraction was still there, still undeniable, but the fever pitch had broken and he could think clearly again. What had they done? More importantly, what was Nick going to do next? They drew apart ever so carefully, not quite knowing where to look. Finally Nick broke the silence.

  


“I think we might have been drugged.”

  


So they were back to that. Although the part of Renard that knew secrets to be worth more than gold, more than lives on occasion, was relieved, he also regretted the lies that would inevitably follow. He knew sooner or later he'd have to tell Nick the truth if only to secure him as an ally, but still...

  


“I don't think I've ever heard of a drug capable of all this. Over such a long time? Without any side effects?”

  


Hating how cool and skeptical he sounded, Renard watched the play of emotions over Nick's face. To him, the younger man seemed dangerously open. It had always been easy to see just when Nick was hiding something.

  


“If you want to forget about this – we don't have to mention tonight ever again.”

  


It was an empty offer, at least while the spell still held. Otherwise Renard thought that he might manage. To his relief, Nick immediately shook his head.

  


“No. No, that's not it. I just know somebody who might be able to help us. This – whatever it is – isn't exactly comfortable, is it?”

  


He probably ought to consider the most inconspicuous answer to that suggestion, but the slickness on Nick's thigh was so much more fascinating. For the next hour or so, the topic didn't come up again. Nick proved deliciously responsive, all sweet little moans and gasping breaths. At some point Renard had the younger man on his knees in front of him, fucking himself on his thumb. He suspected that even without the daze of the spell the thrill of power would have been breath-taking. A Grimm!

  


The Grimm in question, however, seemed to be getting impatient. Nick half-turned and looked over his shoulder, dark, sweaty hair falling into his eyes.

  


“So are you going to fuck me or what?”

  


Clearly – clearly! - there were a lot of things Renard did not yet know about this most interesting detective. A growl shivered its way up his throat and if it wasn't a particularly human sound, the situation certainly warranted it. Even with the help of lube and preparation Nick proved excruciatingly tight. Keeping a hand on the small of the younger man's back, Renard struggled to keep from losing it right away. Nick was panting, visibly willing himself to relax. Both men stilled for a moment. It was Nick who finally broke the silence.

  


“Move!”

  


And Renard did. The first slide out was uneven, jerky, but soon enough instinct took over. His body moving on its own accord, smooth, hard thrusts that had Nick whining as he strained to meet them. So good. Renard slid his hand down that sharply arching back, leaning forward to press Nick's shoulders into the mattress. Woge was always close during sex and it wouldn't do to have a Grimm catch an accidental eyefull. Then he let go. It was heat and friction, smell and power. In the end, both of them screamed.

  


The next few hours or so passed in a daze. Renard was vaguely aware that he was lying on his back with Nick's fingers playing over his chest. Then, suddenly, the movement stopped. Nick was sitting up, a look of intense concentration on his face. This couldn't be good.

  


“You were there! At the hospital – when I woke up.”

  


Not good at all.

  


“Nick-”

  


But Nick was already getting up, mouth clamped shut as though he felt that he had already said too much.

  


“I've got to go.”

  


Renard forced himself to close his eyes and stay completely still. He could probably make Nick stay, touch him, do … something. Suddenly there was a volatile tension in the room, the kind of knife-edged potential that might lead as easily to sex as to violence. By the time he opened his eyes, the apartment was empty.

  


Over the next days, Nick proved impossible to get a hold of. He called in sick and when Renard drove by his house, he only ever saw Juliette. More worryingly, the spice shop was closed, but there was light behind the curtains. Then all hell broke loose. The Hundsjäger were bad enough and although Renard barely spared them a glance, he made sure to memorize their faces. He would remember. Adalind's ultimatum, on the other hand, wasn't so easily dismissed. It wasn't exactly a surprise that his brother should want the key, but with the Hexenbiest spell wrapped tight around his mind, it was difficult to evaluate the options. When he asked Adalind to lift it, she just laughed. Nick. They would tell Nick.

  


The sad truth was that Renard stumbled over the key more or less by accident. Although thanks to Adalind's hint he eventually gained access to Marie Kessler's trailer, searching it didn't turn up anything. In his desperation, Renard finally went through Nick's desk at the precinct. He had hoped for a clue at best, but instead he was suddenly holding the key itself.

Renard stared at the beautifully wrought piece of metal. It looked small in his hand, harmless. He almost wished that he hadn't found it. Handing this over to Adalind and subsequently his brother went against everything he was fighting for. Reason completely evaporated however, when he thought about Nick. It felt like he was going crazy. Hank tried to stop him as he left the building, but Renard simply swept him aside. He had already entered his building when another thought stopped him cold. If he handed over the key, what was to keep Adalind from telling Nick anyway? Or Eric from doing worse? It was the only leverage they had. His phone rang and, distracted, Renard picked up. Nick's voice hit him like a punch.

  


“I know.”

  


That certainly put things into perspective.

  


“We should meet. In person.”

  


Once their negotiations were completed, Renard took the time to inform Adalind that the key wasn't forthcoming. Watching her face fall was an unmitigated pleasure. The place Nick had chosen turned out to be an abandoned property in the woods. It seemed strangely familiar and, after a moment, Renard realized that this was where one of their more spectacular cases had come to its bloody conclusion. Nick had killed a man here.

  


The first punch connected squarely with Renard's jaw, but he managed to deflect the kick that followed and took a few steps back.

  


“Nick, wait! We don't have to do it this way!”

  


But Nick wasn't listening. After another volley of blows, Renard managed to catch the Grimm's wrist.

  


“Please, listen to me!”

  


“You tried to kill my aunt!”

  


“That wasn't about her – it never was. It was always about the key.”

  


Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say. Nick lashed out again, knee jabbing painfully into Renard's stomach. As he reared back, just for a moment, the Zauberbiest gained control. He could see the horror in the Grimm's eyes. Hastily turning away, Renard fumbled in his pocket and thrust the key at Nick.

  


“Here. I am giving it back to you. That's why I suggested we meet.”

  


It was an unexpected relief not to be responsible for it any longer. Both men were breathing heavily, for a moment suspended in a terrible sense of finality. This was it. One of them might very well die here. Then Nick took a small, staggering step forward.

  


“How long have you known?”

  


Some small part of Renard was laughing at the fact that it might very well be Adalind's spell that saved them. It was impossible not to touch. The skin of Nick's neck was sweaty and Renard angled forward, wanting, needing.

  


“Since your aunt came to Portland. I know what happened here, what the man who lived in this house really was.”

  


From now on, Renard silently vowed to himself, he would tell Nick the truth – no matter the cost. Mostly. His lips brushed the younger man's temple and he breathed in deeply, taking the scent. Nick's fist connected with his shoulder, hard enough to bruise.

  


“No. No, not like this. We're not doing this any more.”

  


“I would stop, if I could.”

  


Didn't Nick realize that in his present state, Renard would give him anything he asked for, anything at all? Fingers curling around Nick's nape, Renard pressed their foreheads together.

  


“I woke you. I was the only one who could. I've been protecting you, Nick. I never meant for this to happen.”

  


The Grimm reared up, kissed him –  _bit_ at his mouth – and for a moment Renard was afraid, but it was only his own blood he tasted. Nick's fists were clenching into the lapels of his coat. The kiss that followed wasn't quite as angry. They weren't going to do this. But even as he tried to cling to that thought, Renard found himself pulling Nick's shirt out of his pants. That got him a moan, a harsh, desperate sound that seemed to reverberate through the night. They  _were_ going to do this, right here in the mud of a dead Blutbad's yard. Seeing the same realization in Nick's eyes, Renard accepted the inevitable.

  


They ended up leaning against the car, bodies lined up and moving together. With a low curse, Nick finally worked his hands between their hips. Getting their pants open and their underwear down took some time, but once Renard caught on, they managed. He lined up their cocks and wrapped his hand around them, providing heat and friction. Nick half collapsed onto the hood, barely managing to catch himself on his elbows. The Grimm looked up, defiant.

  


“There's four dead Hundsjäger near the Deluxe Hotel.”

  


Renard briefly closed his eyes.

  


“Is that your idea of dirty talk?”

  


“Does it work for you?”

  


Something must have shown on Renard's face, because Nick eyes widened.

  


“That's so fucked up.”

  


It was. Nick kept looking at him as Renard pumped their cocks together. Not long after that, both men cried out. If the Zauberbiest resurfaced, Nick was polite enough not to mention it.

  


Finally Renard stepped back. They cleaned up as best they could, trying not to look at each other, but unable to refrain from stealing glances. It didn't do much good. Their clothes were stained and rumpled and Renard at least would be sporting some spectacular bruises tomorrow. It had been a long time since any of his affairs had been this … messy.

  


“I believe you said something about breaking this spell?”

  


They agreed to meet in the spice shop the following morning. When Renard would have spoken again, Nick turned away, quickly yanking the door of his car open.

  


“Don't. Not tonight.”

  


When he pulled up in front of the spice shop, Renard had only had two hours of sleep. He had gone to the precinct early that morning, obstructing the investigation into a certain quadruple murder in as unobtrusive a way as possible. When he opened the door, four pairs of eyes stared at him. Juliette's presence in particular took him aback. Renard hadn't wasted a thought on her since this whole sorry business started. She wasn't standing next to Nick, he immediately noted, but off to one side with her arms crossed in front of her stomach. The Blutbad who ran the place looked acutely uncomfortable. As they went into the backroom, Renard could hear him hiss at Nick: “Dude, I can  _smell_ you!” So much for discretion. The young woman Renard hadn't been introduced to handed Juliette a cup of something that looked suspiciously like the purification potion.

  


“You have to drink this.”

  


“And if I do, Nick will be all right? All of this will be over?”

  


“It's the first step.”

  


Renard knew that he ought to warn her, but he couldn't seem to focus on anything but Nick. He only snapped out of it, when someone pressed a cup of what looked like tea into his hand. This needed to stop. After he and Nick had finished their drinks, there was a moment of awkward silence that seemed to stretch into minutes. Juliette finally broke the silence.

  


“Is that it?”

  


The answer, according to the other woman, was yes, pretty much. Now apparently there was nothing to do but wait. Juliette left soon after – without Nick. Renard briefly closed his eyes.

  


“What if this doesn't work?”

  


The woman looked at him with something like pity.

  


“I wish I knew.”

  


As it turned out, such worries were unfounded. Although there was no sudden break, no startling moment of clarity, Renard found himself settling into a more peaceful state of mind. The desire to see Nick was less consuming and, after a few days, was almost submerged by the horrified realization of how close they had come.

  


  
Renard was ever so careful. He only spoke to Nick in the presence of Hank, choosing his words with the same care he exercised around his brother. The Grimm at least seemed to have no immediate intention of killing him. Other than that, he was in the dark.

  


Even without the spell fueling his obsession, Nick was never far from Renard's mind. Memories of his scent, his touch, kept stealing up on him, but even more than that he wanted Nick to  _understand_ . It was perhaps a bit much to ask. Office gossip in the form of Sergeant Wu eventually informed him that Nick had moved out of the house he had shared with Juliette and was currently staying with a friend. Renard knew that he shouldn't be happy about this development, but he couldn't deny a small twinge of satisfaction.

At least they kept working well together on police business. Keeping Portland safe mattered to both men – in Renard's case perhaps more than it should have. In a lot of ways things were as good as they were likely to get, which didn't explain the lingering sense of frustration that seemed to color all their interactions.

  


Then, one evening, Renard found Nick waiting for him in the lobby of his building. For a moment he grew completely still, weighing his options. What was it with people ambushing him at his doorstep? Didn't anyone make appointments anymore? At least the Grimm didn't seem to be spoiling for a fight.

They entered the elevator in silence, both men moving carefully, making sure to maintain a safe distance. It was the first time they had been alone since … then. Nick's thoughts seemed to be running along similar lines, because he flushed a bit and quickly looked away. In the living room Renard tossed his keys onto the table.

  


“Can I offer you something to drink?”

  


“A beer would be good.”

  


That, at least, was easily arranged. Making sure to keep his hands on the counter, Renard watched Nick take a deep swig.

  


“I take it this isn't a social call?”

  


“What do you know about the key?”

  


If there had ever been a loaded question. Renard started with what few facts he had been able to ascertain, but swiftly found himself recounting legends and rumors. Spoken out loud, most of them sounded patently ridiculous, but if even part of the stories were true, the keys were a threat they couldn't afford to discount. Nick was looking at him like he was out of his mind.

  


“I know what this sounds like. And I'm aware that things haven't been … ideal. However, I truly believe that we could make a difference. If we were to work together-”

  


Distrust was written plainly on Nick's face. There had to be something he could do, some way he could prove... Renard took a deep breath.

  


“I know about the trailer. You might want to move it to a different location. And have more secure locks installed. I am not your enemy, Nick. Perhaps we could put the past behind us? Start fresh?”

  


Nick's smile was bright and harsher than it had been even a month ago.

  


“No. We can't.”

  


Then Nick Burkhardt kissed Sean Renard.

  


*

  


Later that night, Nick silently rose and padded into the living room. Large windows offered an unblocked view over Portland and he stood quietly for a while. His nape ached pleasantly where Sean had honest to God  _bitten_ him.

  


In the past weeks, Nick's life had slowly fallen to pieces. Even as the memory of Juliette slowly returned, it had become painfully clear that while she could accept the existence of a supernatural world, she didn't want to become a part of it. It had hurt, but not nearly as much as Nick had expected it to. Behind him, the black mouth of the bedroom door yawned open. Some instinct told him that Sean was awake in there, politely waiting for him to come back.

  


Nick wasn't sure he had made the right decision. In fact, he wasn't sure of much of anything any longer. For the time being, however, he seemed to have made his bed. And lain in it. As for everything else... only time would tell.

  


The End


End file.
